


glory, glory (glory to the night)

by stormss



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Background Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh, Declarations Of Love, F/F, Post-Season/Series 04, Wedding Fluff, just... fluff and happiness!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2019-12-30 19:22:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18321629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormss/pseuds/stormss
Summary: "Uh, you are cordially invited to the wedding of —" Eliot stops and a pleased sound, somewhere between a laugh and a gasp, escapes him as he continues. "Oh shit,Margo's getting married."And that catches everyone's attention.*Or, Margo and Fen tie the knot.





	glory, glory (glory to the night)

**Author's Note:**

> hello!!
> 
> this baby has been sitting in my drafts for ~2 months and I was finally able to escape the hell of schoolwork long enough to finish it so!!! here we are!!! ((also - we're just going to pretend for the sake of this fic that josh/margo never happened, to make continuity a little easier)). 
> 
> the title is from 'thursday girl' by mitski.

When they get the bunny that delivers the monotone, raspy message —  _shit's going down, love Margo_ — they don't exactly get what they're expecting. At all. To be fair, the possibilities are endless with such a vague statement, considering all that they've dealt with in the past two weeks alone, but when Penny travels to Fillory to see how life-altering Margo's situation is and returns less than five minutes later, looking frazzled and holding a scroll delicately wrapped in twine, they are completely confused. 

"So, is the kingdom on fire?" Eliot asks, glancing up from his phone — sure, he probably should've been helping with research for their takedown of the Library, but his head gets swimmy  when he has to concentrate too hard on something, ever since being locked away in his own mind for months on end — as Penny presses the scroll into his hand. Everyone else is focused on their own research, whether it be keeping their wards strong enough to ensure their concealment from the Library, or the hedge revolt, and Penny easily joins the flow again, shaking his head as Eliot takes the scroll. 

"Not in the way you'd expect." 

Eliot sits back, slowly unravelling the parchment, eyes quickly scanning over the first few lines of the message, written in very intricate lettering. Quentin prods him with a socked foot, poking into the side of his thigh. "What's it say?" 

"Uh, you are cordially invited to the wedding of —" Eliot stops and a pleased sound, somewhere between a laugh and a gasp, escapes him as he continues. " _Oh shit_ , Margo's getting married." 

And that catches everyone's attention. 

Amidst the growing chorus of  _what?_ around the room, Quentin practically shoves him off the couch as he rushes into a sitting position to get a look at what is apparently Margo's wedding invitation. 

"We have to get to Fillory." 

* * *

The castle is bustling with activity, and their arrival barely disrupts the flow of various people: some are carrying around flowers, some are holding up samples of fabrics for tapestries against the stone walls, and some are looking for approval from advisors that are holding checklists scribbled on parchment. Eliot searches around the hall, noticing Rafe doting on Abigail and Tick scurrying around, chasing after someone with a tray of drinks. Delegations from outlying kingdoms are already filing in, mingling with one another as Margo's council mills around the room in a frantic blur. 

It's unnerving, being back in the castle, but it feels so familiar. Eliot effortlessly turns sharp corners and directs them down the winding hallways, and eyes do follow them, but they mostly disappear into the crowd, which is a blessing in disguise. 

"Is it always this chaotic?" Kady asks incredulously, from somewhere behind them all, but Eliot's only focused on what he sees in front of him. 

"Margo?" Eliot calls, noticing the very familiar figure of his best friend storming around the throne room, a small group of squires and advisors lingering around her. She turns her head as his voice echoes through the room, and she makes a very recognizable face, one that yells  _thank-Christ-get-me-out-of-here_. She bounds over to him, cutting of one of the delegates representing the talking animals so she can throw her arms around his neck. The hug is warm and comforting, like always, and a little less desperate as months have passed since his possession. 

"Tell me you brought it." Margo whispers, mostly into his chest, and he grumbles a little bit as he has to break up their hug. He holds her at arms length while he digs into the overnight bag he'd thrown together at the last minute, producing a bottle that glints in the sunlight pouring in through the stained-glass windows. He holds it up to her, and she raises her hands in relief. "I fucking love you." 

The others are left in their dust as Margo latches her fingers around Eliot's wrist and drags him behind her, making a beeline for her chambers. She asks the guards stationed by her door to leave them be, and once they move further down the hall, Margo locks them into her room. Eliot takes her in, crown nestled perfectly atop her loose curls, the happy glint to her eye, as she plucks the bottle from his hands and pops the cap, bringing it to her lips. 

"Carrot wine was driving me insane, babe." Margo says, immediately downing a large gulp of rosé, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Shit, wedding planning is no joke." 

"And about that..." Eliot trails off, lifting a brow. Margo takes the hint, and gives him a look. 

"I know, I know. Who would've thought that reclaiming my throne would mean tying the knot?" 

Eliot smirks a little. "Been there, done that, Bambi." 

"Yeah, well. Tradition dies hard." Margo shrugs, and brings the bottle to her lips again. 

"So, any cold feet yet?" Eliot asks, leaning back against the velvet chaise, gratefully accepting the bottle when Margo passes it over to him. He's half surprised to see Margo shaking her head, especially in the wake of being forced to marry —  _again,_ which he would never bring up to her face, since the nightmare of Prince Fetus was still too vivid in their memories. But she looks comfortable and at ease, something he wasn't expecting when he'd first learned of the marriage. Even if she knew her fiancée.

"Oh, not at all." Margo leans back, too, and her burgundy dress brings out the faint flush in her cheeks. She looks truly happy, despite it all, and it warms his heart. "I mean, it's not the ideal situation, thanks to that cockhole mansplaining wannabe-king that claimed something about my lack of fulfilling my duties as High King in front of my whole council, all while threatening to call for my banishment. Again. But I'm...I'm not nervous." 

"Really?" Eliot tries to press her for more information with a look, and she easily gives in. It feels like they're back in the cottage, getting tipsy in the garden and gossiping about who would be the best first-year fuck, not in a magical castle waiting for what will be the third royal marriage between them. 

"One of the delegates from West Loria sent word that the Queen wasn't exactly pleased with Fen giving up the throne to me. So, we thought it would be best to rule together." Margo shrugs, holding Eliot's hands in her own, absentmindedly twisting one of his rings around his middle dinger, caught up in the story. "Bada bing, bada boom. We're engaged." 

"That's the only reason why you chose Fen?" 

Margo scoffs. "I didn't pluck her from the crowd and demand her hand in marriage, El." 

"No shit," Eliot huffs, glancing around the room. There are various wedding gifts strewn around the room, and other decorative items, but underneath it all he can see that this room is brandished with evidence of two people living together: two elegant chests for clothing are placed against the far wall, two mugs are abandoned on the table near the balcony, and creases on both pillows. Some of Fen's sheathed knives are hanging from a hook on the wall. Then it clicks. "You're not just doing this because it's your only choice, are you." 

Margo settles her gaze on her best friend, her other half, and just gives him a soft, knowing smile — one that he could read from a mile away. Damn, his best friend's in love. "I know we're trying to keep this moment uplifting, but it wouldn't be  _us_ if I didn't tell you that I'm really fucking happy you're here for this. It's the real thing, this time." 

Eliot sniffs and curls his arm around Margo, drawing her close, breathing in her woodsy-vanilla scent. "Well, you're stuck with me, darling. I'm never leaving you again." 

"Good." Margo mumbles, and he can feel the collar of his shirt getting wet, but he couldn't care less. He draws her closer, resting his chin atop her head, the ridges of the crown leaving an imprint on his jaw. She pulls back after a moment, and brashly wipes at her tears. "Okay, buck up, best man. We've got a wedding look to perfect." 

* * *

Margo confesses her feelings to Fen on a warm night, the breeze coming off the streams around the castle gentle against their faces. 

It had been a long day of council meetings and feeling claustrophobic in her own kingdom, and the impromptu speech by West Loria's delegate had only been the cherry on top. Margo had been longing for fresh air all day; the air that was swimming with magic, washing over her in invisible light, elevating her spirits at some subconscious level. So she sends her advisors off for the evening and dines alone in her chambers, and lets her legs guide her outside without direction. She's as bare as she can be in Fillory — crown forgotten next to her bed, the day's makeup washed off, her hair pulled back for comfort — but she still feels the pressure of her people on her shoulders, and so she finds herself rubbing at her temples as she sips the last terrible dregs of carrot wine and stares up at the night sky. 

"Hey Margo." 

The voice is quiet, but sure and familiar, and Margo doesn't have to turn her head to feel Fen close behind her. The woman's hand is gentle on her shoulder, and the touch lingers from the nights before. She longs to be comforted by Fen, and its like she's got a neon sign expressing just this hanging over her head, because the other woman sits down on the marble bench next to her and curls an arm around her. This...thing, between them, it's only been going on for a month or two. Her emotions had been at an all time high when she and the others got Eliot back, and apparently the next thing on her bucket list was kissing Fen. 

Who'd kissed her back. 

It's been casual, which is nice, but Margo can't help but to feel the hammering of her heart against her chest whenever they're together. Margo breathes sharply through her nose, and Fen knocks their shoulders together. 

"Are you okay?" Fen asks, so endearingly naive and so caring to her bones, and Margo leans into her side. "I know some natural remedies that could ease your stress." 

Margo almost makes a quip about that, but she just sighs and runs a hand down her face. She keeps her voice quiet, matching Fen's, because it doesn't feel quite right to speak at full volume in the stillness of night. "It's this whole prophecy thing. Maybe I'm just not meant to be High King. I mean, it was Eliot's title by blood, and yours by right when I left. I want to be the best King possible, but what if Queen Ru is right?" 

"I'm still burdened by my destiny." Fen whispers, before adding, unprovoked: "It's fucked." 

Margo stares at her with wide eyes, surprised at her bluntness. But she can only nod in agreement. "It sure fucking is." 

"But I think you're a great King, Margo." Fen bumps her shoulder into Margo's, and her gaze is beautiful and steadfast, unwavering as she pushes on. "You prove that every day you sit on that throne and  _rule._ " 

Margo's always been proud in her self-awareness, her deep-down knowledge of who she is. But Fen...she's never been speechless because of a girl before, even when she was dealing with  _liking girls_ back in high school. Margo Hanson has always been able to get what she wants, and now she's terrified of admitting it. 

"And you can't listen to the West Lorians. You will have to get married, but — but it doesn't change whether or not you're a good King, because you always will be. At least to me." 

Margo kisses her, then, easy as breathing. 

"Fuck destiny, or fate, or whatever the fuck. Fuck the  _rules_ , Fen —" Margo gently takes Fen's hands, once they've pulled back to breathe. She inches forward, slowly getting closer to the other woman.  _Closer, closer, closer._ "Let's do this together." 

"You want to marry me?" Fen asks, a little smug. Margo smoothes her thumb over her jaw. 

"Only if you want to marry me." Margo whispers, tracking Fen's expression carefully. "I mean, we'd be a pretty badass power couple, but —" 

Fen kisses her again, and it knocks the breath out of her. 

They pull back after another few moments, but still share the same space. Fen drops her gaze before mumbling: "I was always told that I'd marry the High King. I grew up with my fate sealed away in a thirty-year-old deal." 

"Fen..." Margo whispers, tucking a stray strand of hair behind the woman's ear. 

"I never got a chance to decide what I really wanted, you know?" Fen smiles, but it's sad, and Margo can feel her heart sink to the bottom of her stomach. "I was the village girl set to marry one of the Children of Earth that would claim the throne. I was always lead to believe I'd only have that one path. But now I have this one. With you."

Margo meets her eyes again, glistening blue in the moonlight. "I don't want you to feel obligated, Fen."

"I want you." Fen says, voice steady, fingers trailing down the side of Margo's arm until she can take her hand. "I love _you_ , Margo, not your title."

Shaking her head, Margo ducks in to kiss Fen properly, cupping her face with both hands. It's like a flash of light goes off behind her eyes, and Margo kisses Fen deeper, until the movement throws them both from the bench.

"Shit, are you okay?" Margo asks, and Fen's laughing, having landed on a soft patch of grass. She places her hands on Margo's hips and pulls her closer, impossibly so, and leans up to kiss her again and again and again.

_We're getting married_ , Margo thinks happily, foolishly giddy, imagining telling her fourteen-year-old self she'd be getting married in Fillory, to a woman who she would declare her High Queen, no matter what tradition called for. The stars could be falling and Margo wouldn't care, wrapped up in this moment under the glow of the moon.

* * *

The wedding is the following morning, the throne room washed in pale, golden light. 

Eliot takes one last look at himself in the mirror propped against the wall in Margo's chambers; he takes in the smoky eyeshadow and thick liner, his tailored jacket in shades of deep blue complimenting Margo's ivory dress with the bronze embroidered bodice perfectly. They walk arm-in-arm to the aisle, which is lined on either side with guests. He hears Margo's small intake of breath, and he squeezes her even closer. 

Last night, once they'd gotten sufficiently tipsy, Margo had asked him if it was weird that she was marrying his ex-wife. And while he loves Fen ferociously, he wants her to be happy — and it only makes his heart soar more that happiness could come to both of them. And when he'd told her that, whispered into her hair, she'd let out a small sound and turned to kiss his cheek. Now here they are, walking down the aisle, their friends on either side of them. The altar is beautiful; ivy and flowers draped around the structure, hints of bronze emblems glinting in the sunlight. They reach the end of the aisle, and Eliot ducks his head as a sign of Fillorian respect, his eyes pointed toward Tick; he kisses Margo's hand with a dramatic bow, one that earns him a wide grin. She adjusts her crown, and takes her place in front of the room. 

Eliot steps to the side, naturally taking his place next to Q. All their friends had brought their own clothes, but had been offered some Fillorian touches; broaches or headpieces, mainly, and someone actually wrestled Penny into a dark green tunic. A hush falls over the room, and all heads turn to take in Fen, who's dressed head-to-toe in pale gold, her curls piled up high. She makes it down the aisle and takes Margo's hands, and her gleeful smile is mirrored on Margo's face. 

They look  _good_ together; truly happy and eager to get married. Tick begins the ritual — the speech, the vows, and has both Fen and Margo join hands before loosely wrapping a satin ribbon around their wrists, a symbol of their unifying bond. Despite it not being a Fillorian custom, Margo had requested a local goldsmith to forge two delicate rings, one in the same, and she declares that she'd like to say a few words, looking around the room. 

"When I met Fen, it was under less than favourable circumstances," Margo starts, letting her gaze fall back on Fen, "but meeting her was the best thing that's happened to me. And I try not to let this shit mess with my head, but I'm — I'm so fucking happy you chose me, Fen." 

There's a teary smile shared between them, and Margo slips the ring on Fen's finger. 

Fen clears her throat, before plucking Margo's ring from the box Tick is holding out to them. "My turn. You know, Margo intimidated me when she first took the throne. And sometimes she still manages to do that. But more than anything, she inspires me, and she makes me truly happy. And I am so eager to rule by your side." 

With the final words, Fen slips the ring on Margo's finger, and Tick declares them legally wed. They share a kiss, Fen's hands delicately cupping Margo's jaw, and the crowd cheers and claps. Eliot wipes at his eyes, and Quentin presses close, reaching up to press a kiss to his cheek. Margo and Fen walk back down the aisle together, hand in hand, and as they reach the big doors at the end of the hall Margo yells back about "getting her honeymoon on with her wife." 

"Good for them." Eliot mutters, before directing the others toward the reception. 

* * *

After drinks and appetizers, Margo and Fen join them all in the throne room. 

An official coronation was to be held before the really party began, and when the title of High Queen is officially given to Fen, topped off with the crown being placed atop her head, bottles of champagne they brought from home are popped. Eliot traps Margo in a huge hug, and she swats at his chest, pouring the two of them shots.

"You're  _married._ " Eliot slurs, and Margo grins, tipping the contents of her glass back. 

"Damn right, babe." Margo half-yells over the music, before pulling away from him. "Speaking of, I'm gonna find my wife. You need anything?"

Eliot shakes his head, waving her off as he saunters over to the table of booze. There's not the big selection he's used to, but he can always make do. A hand floats over his back, and he turns his head to find Q, tipsy and for once looking anything but stressed out. Wordlessly, they knock their glasses together, and Eliot leans his weight against Quentin, his elbow on his boyfriend's —  _which, if he wasn't drunk, would be a strange word to swallow_ — shoulder. 

"Hmm," Eliot hums, taking in the scene in front of them. People are mingling and dancing, drinking and eating, and the colourful lights cast shadows on the floor. Penny and Julia have disappeared, Margo and Fen are in their own world near the far wall, talking quietly and playing with each other's hands. "This is nice." 

"It is." Quentin muses, usually averse to Eliot using his height disadvantage against him but leaning into it now. 

And looking out at the room, it  _is_ nice. For once, this feels like a well-deserved, peaceful reprise. For once, they aren't clawing to the ends of the Earth to save someone they love, or trying to. Well. Save the world. The lights swim around them and Margo twirls Fen onto the dance floor, and Eliot sighs again. He wraps his arms around Q's shoulders, both of them (and most of the room) caught up in watching the High King and High Queen share their first dance.

He never thought a happy ending would be possible, but now... he thinks it's something that's in their grasp.

And that's an exciting thought. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!!! comments & kudos make my day ((': 
> 
> come say hi on [ tumblr! ](http://lizzogay.tumblr.com/)


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